(extempore lines on RETURNING A NEWSPAPER.)
Ellisland, Monday Evening.
[This is a clever note of thanks to his kind neighbour of the Carse, for the use
of a newspaper. It is quite likely that the metrical letter on a like occasion,
given at page 153, was addressed to the same gentleman.]
Your news and review, sir,
I've read through and through, sir.
( 278 )
With little admiring or blaming :
The papers are barren
Of home-news or foreign, —
No murders or rapes worth the naming.
Our friends, the reviewers,
Those chippers and hewers,
Are judges of mortar and stone, sir ;
]5ut of meet, or unmeet,
In a faljric complete,
I'll boldly pronounce they are none, sir.
My goose-quill too rude is.
To tell all your goodness
Bestow'd on your servant, the Poet ;
Would to God I had one
Like a beam of the sun,
And then all the world, sir, should know it !
ELEGY ON PEG NICHOLSON.
[This animal belonged to Mr. William Nicol of the High School. Edinburgh.
Some horse-couper had imposed on the dominie, and palmed a wretched mare
on him at an extravagant price ; and the poor brute, who soon began to exhibit
her ailments, was placed on the poet's farm to be nursed, and thereafter sold for
the best price she could bring. Burns, on Febi-uary 9th, 1790, announced her
death in a most humorous letter to Nicol, and appended the present ballad by
way of Drigie. The "priest who rode her sair" was no other tlian Nicol him-
self, who had been bred to holy orders, but took an early dislike to the calling.
The farm-servants at Ellisland had christened the mare Peg Nkholson — the name
of a disloyal fanatic who had attempted to shoot the king.]
Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare,
As ever trode on airn ;
But now she's floating down the Nith,
And past the mouth o' Cairn.
Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare.
And rode thro' thick and thin ;
But now she's floating down the Nith,
And wanting even the skin.
Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare,
And ance she bore a priest ;
But now she's floating down the Nith,
For Solway fish a feast.
( 279 )
Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare,
And the priest he rode her sair :
And much oppressed and brnised she was,
As priest-rid cattle are.
TO MR. MAXWELL OF TERRAUGHTY,
ON HIS BIRTHDAY.
[John Maxwell, Esq., of Terraughty and Munches, was a leading man in
Dumfriesshire, and a lineal descendant of Lord Herris, who fought for Mary,
Queen of Scots, at Langside. He appears to have been 71 years old when thus
addressed by Burns, who uses the poefs license as a prophet, to foretell that
Heaven will yet bestow on him a life-tack of " seven times seven " years — we
presume in addition to the 71 already past, which would bring him to 120 ! Mr.
Maxwell died in 1814 ; so that he must have reached the patriarchal age of 94.]
Health to the Maxwells' vet'ran chief !
Health, ay nnsour'd by care or grief :
Inspir'd, I turn'd Fate's sybil leaf,
This natal morn,
I see thy life is stuff o' prief,
Scarce yet half worn.
This day thou metes threescore eleven,
And I can tell that bounteous Heaven
(The second sight, ye ken, is given
To ilka Poet)
On thee a tack o' seven times seven
Will yet bestow it.
If envious buckles view wi' sorrow
Thy lengthen'd days on this blest morrow.
May desolation's lang-teeth'd harrow.
Nine miles an hour,
Rake them, like Sodom and Gomorrah,
In brunstane stoure.
Bnt for thy friends, and they are mony —
Baith honest men and lasses bonie —
May couthie fortune, kind and cannie,
In social glee,
Wi mornings blythe and e'enings funnj^,
Bless them and thee !
( 280 )
Fareweel, auld birkie ! Lord be near ye,
And then the Deil he daurna steer ye :
Your friends ay love, your faes ay fear ye ;
For me, shame fa' me,
If neist my heart 1 dinna wear ye
While BuKNS they ca' me.
HERE'S A HEALTH TO THEM THAT'S AW A'.
[The breaking out of the French Kevolution in 1792, aroused in this and other
countries a sympathetic longing after liberty, which, under judicious guidance,
is the proper mainspring of national greatness. A number of Societies arose
both in Scotland and England, taking the name of "Friends of the People."
which soon caused serious alarm to Pitt's government. It does not appear that
Burns identified himself with any of these societies ; but we know that he was
a subscriber to the Edinburgh Gazetteer— a, publication which was looked on with
suspicion, for advocating the reforming views then in agitation all around. The
following song— found among the poet's papers after his death— appears to have
been thrown off by him about this period to compliment the reform leaders in
the House of Commons. Cromek's version is fragmentary ; but we give the
complete song as printed in the Scots Magazine for January, 1818, from an origmal
MS., delivered by Burns to one of his friends.]
Here's a health to them that's awa',
Here's a health to them that's awa'.
And wha wiuna wish gude luck to our cause,
May never gude luck be their fa' !
It's gude to be merry and wise,
It's gude to be honest and true.
It's gude to support Caledonia's cause,
And bide by the buff and the blue.
Here's a health to them that's awa',
Here's a health to them that's awa'.
Here's a health to CharUe * the chief o' the clan,
Altho' that his baud be sma'.
May Liberty meet wi' success !
May Prudence protect her frae evil !
May tyrants and tyranny tine in the mist,
And wander their way to the devil.
Here's a health to them that's awa'.
Here's a health to them that's awa'.
Here's a health to Tammie, the Norland laddie, -f
That hves at the lug o' the law !
^Charles James Fox. The huff ai\d blue was the Whig livery,
t Hon. Thomas Erskine, afterwards Lord Erskiue.
( 281 )
Here's freedom to him that wad read,
Here's freedom to him that wad write !
There's nane ever feared that the truth should be heard,
But they wham the truth wad indite.
Here's a health to them that's awa',
An' here's to them that's awa',
Here's Maitland and Wycombe, let wha does na like 'em,
Be built in a hole o' the wa' !
Here's timmer that's red at the heart.
Here's fruit that is sound at the core ;
May he that would turn the buff and blue coat,
Be turned to the back o' the door.*
Here's a health to them that's awa'.
Here's a health to them that's awa'.
Here's Chieftain M'Leod, a Chieftain worth gowd,"]"
Tho' bred amang mountains o' snaw !
Here's friends on both sides of the Forth,
And friends on both sides of the Tweed ;
And wha wad betray old Albion's rights.
May they never eat of her bread !
ADDRESS TO GENERAL DUMOURIER.
[Dumourier deserted the army of the French Eepublic, on April 5, 17!13, aftei
having gained some great victories. This effusion, in the form of a parody on
Kobin Adair, Is said to have been uttered almost extemporaneously by the poet,
on overhearing some one expressing joy over the event.]
You'ee welcome to Despots, Dumourier ;
You're welcome to Despots, Dumourier.
How does Dampiere do '^
Aye, and Bournonville too 1
Why did they not come along with you, Dumourier ?
I will fight France with you, Dumourier ;
I will fight France with you, Dumourier;
I will fight France with you,
I will take my chance with you ;
By my soul, I'll dance a dance with you, Dumourier.
This verse has been omitted in all former editions of the poet,
t M'Leod of Dunvegan, a great Liberal of the day.
( 282 )
Then let us fight about, Dumourier;
Then let us fight about, Dumourier;
Then let us fight about,
'Till freedom's spark is out,
Then we'll be damned no doubt — Dumourier.
FRAGMENT ON LIBERTY.*
[In September, 1793. Bruce' s Address was composed, and in June of the follow-
ing year the present fragment on his cherished theme was produced. On the
25th of that month, he enclosed the lines to Mrs. Dunlop, with these remarks :
— " I am just going to trouble your critical patience with the first sketch of a
stanza I have been framing as I passed along the road. The subject is Liberty:
you know, my honoured frientl, how dear the theme is to me, I design it as
an irregular ode for General Washington's birthdaj'. After having mentioned
the degeneracj' of other kingdoms, I come to Scotland, thus : "] —
TiiEE, Caledonia, thy wild heaths among,
Thee, famed for martial deed and sacred song,
To thee I turn with swimming eyes ;
Where is that soul of freedom fled '?
Iramingled with the mighty dead? ■
Beneath that hallowed turf where Wallace lies !
Hear it not, Wallace, in thy bed of death !
Ye babbling winds, in silence sweep ;
Disturb not ye the hero's sleep,
Nor give the coward-secret breath.
Is this the power in Freedom's war
That wont to bid the battle rage ?
Behold that eye which shot immortal hate.
Blasting the desjiot's proudest bearing —
That arm which, nerved with thundering fate.
Crushed usurpation's boldest daring :
One quenched in darkness, like the sinking star.
And one — -the palsied arm of tottering, powerless age.
* Unimportant as this little effusitiu may appear, it has been rendered still
less interesting by the carelessness of editors in misplacing lines, altering words,
iind disregarding the author's own structure of the verses. The slightest
examination of the rhymes and sense of the last eight lines will shew that these
form a distinct stanza from thai; of the ten lines preceding. From Cromek's
time downwards, we liere read of the etje that crushes, and the arm that braves!
Dr. Chambers, in order to escape this inaccuracj', tried to mend matters in his
last edition, but made them worse by transposing the third-last and flfth-last
lines; whereas, all that was requisite to restore the author's sense, was to
transpose the opening words of tliese lines, as in the text.
( 283 ;
THE 'LOYAL NATIVES.'
[A Club of young men in Dumfries existed in 1794, -who adopted this title to
shew their regard for the dominant party in government, and their detestation
of repubhcanism. The following impromptu was athninistered by Burns, as a
reply and rebuke to them for having ventured to address the poet and a few
habitual associates, in a wretched quatrain, wherein they are styled " Sons of
Sedition," and consigned to hell for their sentiments.]
Ye true ' Loyal Natives,' atteiid to my song,
In uproar and riot rejoice tlie niglit long ;
Erom envy and hatred jowy corps is exempt;
But where is your shield from the darts of contempt ?
EPIGRAMS ON THE EARL OF GALLOWAY.
[We learn from Mr. Syme"s lively account of the poet's tour along with him
through Gallowaj-, in .Tiily, 1793, that one at least of these epigrams was uttered
in the course of that excursion. The Earl was one of Burns' favourite aversions ;
and on his beautiful seat being pointed out, the poet, according to Mr. Syme,
"expectorated his spleen, and regained a most agreeable temper."]
"What dost thou in that mansion fair ?
Flit, Galloway, and find
Some narrow, dirty, dungeon cave,
The picture of thy mind !
No Stewart art thou, Gallow^ay —
The Stewarts all were brave ;
Besides, the Stewarts were but /oo/s,
Not one of them a knave.
Bright ran thy line, Galloway
Thro' many a far-fam'd fire !
So ran the far-fam'd Roman way —
So ended — in a mire.
( 284 )
TO THE SAME,
ON BEING THREATENED WITH THE EARl's RESENTMENT.
Spare me tby vengeance, Galloway,
In quiet let me live :
I ask no kindness at thy hand —
For thou hast none to give.
THE DEAN OF FACULTY.
A NEW BALLAD.
[Towarrts the close of 1795, a bad harvest and other causes, contributed to
create much popular discontent, and annoyance to the ministry. A public
meeting was held in the Adelphi Theatre in Edinburgh, at which the Hon.
Harry Erskino, Dean of Faculty presided: this gave great offence to the Tory
majority In the Parliament House, and it was resolved to set up a Tory candi-
date for the office of " Dean " at the next election, and outvote the supporters
of the Whig favourite. This election took place on 12th January, 17y6, when
Robert Dundas of Arniston — by a large majority — supplanted the reigning
favourite. Burns could not hear of the degradation of his old friend and patron,
without giving vent to his feelings, which he did in the following song :] —
Dire was the hate at old Harlaw,
That Scot to Scot did carry ;
And dire the discord Langside saw,
For beauteous, hapless Mary :
But Scot with Scot ne'er met so hot.
Or were more in fury seen, sir.
Than 'twixt Hal and Boh for the famous job —
Who should be Faculty's Dean^ sir.
This Hal for genius, wit, and lore.
Among the first was number'd ;
But pious Boh^ 'mid learning's store,
Commandment tenth remember'd.
Yet simple Boh the victory got.
And wan his heart's desire ;
Which shews that heaven can boil the pot,
Though the devil p — s in the fire.
Squire Hal., besides, had in this case.
Pretensions rather brassy, —
For talents to deserve a place
Are qualifications saucy ;
( 285 )
So their worships of the Faculty,
Quite sick of merit's rudeness,
Chose one who should owe it all, d'ye see,
To their gratis grace and goodness.
As once on Pisgah purg'd was the sight
Of a son of Circumcision,
So may be, on this Pisgah height,
Bob's purblind, mental vision :
Nay, Bohhifs mouth may be open'd yet,
Till for eloquence you hail him.
And swear he has the angel met
That met the ass of Balaam.
[In your heretic sins may you hve, and die,
Ye heretic Eight-and-Thirty !
But accept, ye sublime Majority,
My congratulations hearty.
With your Honours and a certain King,
In your servants this is striking —
The more incapacity they bring,
The more they're to your hking.] *
AMANG THE TREES.
Tune — The King o' France^ he rade a race.
[This, and the two following fragments, were found among the poet's papers
after his death. The ••yell o' foreign squeels" mentioned in the song, seems
to refer to the encom^agement given in fashionable society to Italian, French,
and German music, to the prejudice of that of our own nation. The allusion in
the last four lines, is to James I. of Scotland, a royal poet and musician, whose
spirit, our bard tells us, had entered into and animated "a fiddler in the north"
— thereby meaning Neil Gow, whose strathspeys and reels dang the Italians
"tapsalteerie, O ! "]
Amang the trees, where humming bees
At buds and floAvers were hinging,
Auld Caledon' drew out her drone.
And to her pipe was singing, O :
'Twas pibroch, sang, strathspey, or reels,
She dirl'd them aff fu' clearly, ;
When there cam' a yell o' foreign squeels.
That dang her tapsalteerie, O !
* This verse, unknown to Cromek, was printed from the poet's own MS., so
lately as in 1842, by the son of Allan Cunningham.
( 286 )
Their caj^on craws, and queer ha, ha's !
They made onr lugs grow eerie, ;
The hungry bike did scrape and pike
Till we were wae and wearie, O :
But a royal ghaist wha ance was cas'd
A prisoner aughteen year awa',
He fir'd a fiddler in the north,
That dang them tapsalteerie, !
A BOTTLE AND A FRIEND.
[Gilbert Burns, in a letter to Cromek, dated February, 1809, expressed his
opinion that these lines are not by his brother. They are, nevertheless, given
here, with the addition of a chorus not generally printed along with them.]
CHORUS.
Theris nane that's blest of human kind,
But the cheerful and the gay, man.
Fal lal, 4'C.
Here's a bottle and an honest friend !
What wad ye wish for mair, man?
Wha kens, before his life may end,
What his share may be o' care, man ?
Then catch the moments as they fly,
And use them as ye ought, man ;
Believe me, happiness is shy,
And comes not ay when sought, man.
There's nane, ^"C.
THE MERRY PLOUGHMAN.
[Although this double stanza exists in Burns' own writing, his brother, Gilbert,
assured Cromek that the little song was sung by every ploughman and plough-
man's mistress in Ayrshire, before the poet was born.]
As I was a-wand'riug ae morning in spring,
I heard a young ploughman sae sweetly to sing :
( 287 )
And as he was singiu', tliir words he did say .
There's nae life like the ploughman in the month o* sweet
May.
The lav'rock, in the morning she'll rise frae her nest,
And mount to the air wi' the dew on her breast ;
And wi' the merry ploughman she'll whistle and sing,
And at nightlshe'U return to her nest back again.
TO THEE, LOV'D NITH.
Tune — Marians Dream.
[There can be no donbt, from a reference to this song in one of the poet's un-
dated notes to JNIrs. Maria Eiddel, that it is chiefly the composition of that lady.
Internal evidence proves the date of the note to be about January, 1795. He was
then, during the illness of his supervisor, doing duty for him, as well as attend-
ing to his own : the poet tells her he will " in a week or two again return to his
wonted leisure, and he will then pay that attention to Mrs. E.'s beautiful song,
To thee, lov'd Nith, which it so well deserves."
Eobert Chambers, who, in his biography of the poet, seems very anxious to
make out a case of complete reconcilement between the friends — estranged since
January. 1794 (see note. p. C9) — regards this song as a fresh poetical expression
of her forgiving disposition towards her ungallant lampooner, whom she asked
to criticise and correct her performance, thus contriving " that Burns should
in the way of his art, help to polish the shaft of tender reproach aimed at his
own bosom."
Mrs. Eiddle's song, consisting of three double-stanzas, has been printed in
full by some of Bums' editors. We give only the first verse in our text : the
sixth line is disfigured by a false rhj-me, which Burns corrected as follows:
" I love thee, Nith, thy banks and braes,
Though tliei-e Remembrance wakes the tear;
For there he rov'd that brake my heart,
Yet to that heart, ah, still how dear ! "
The correction is given by Cunningham, from a MS. of the poet. We give, also,
an additional verse from Thomson's collection— in all likelihood, appended by
Burns, for its quality seems to excel the other stanzas : —
"Ye shades that echoed to his vows.
And saw me once supremely blest;
Oh, yield me now a peaceful grave.
And give a love-lorn maiden rest !
And should the false one hither stray,
No vengeful Spirit bid him fear;
But tell him, though he broke my heart,
Yet to that heart he still was dear! "]
To thee, lov'd Nith, thy gladsome plains.
Where late with careless thought I rang'd,
Though prest with care and sunk in woe,
To thee I bring a heart unchang'd.
( 288 )
I love thee, Nitb, thy banks and braes,
Though Memory there mji hosom tear ;
For there he rov'd that broke my heart.
Yet to that heart, ah ! still how dear.
TO THE OWL.
(By John M'Creddie.)
[Mr. Cromek considered thesfi verses to have been written by Burns, uotwith-
Btanding the poet attributed them to " John M'Creddie," a person quite unknown.
Upwards of sixty years have elapsed since Cromek printed this piece, " found
among the poet's MSS. in his own handwriting with occasional interlineations,
such as occur in all his primitive effusions," and no one has come forward to
claim the poem, or give any information as to its nominal author.]
Sad bird of night, what sorrow calls thee forth.
To vent thy plaints thus in the midnight hour ?
Is it some blast that gathers in the north,
Threat'ning to nip the verdure of thy bow'r ?
Is it, sad owl, that autumn strips the shade,
And leaves thee here, unshelter'd and forlorn?
Or fear that winter will thy nest invade ?
Or friendless melancholy bids thee mourn ?
Shut out, lone bird, from all the feather'd train,
To tell thy sorrows to th' unheeding gloom ;
No friend to pity when thou dost complain.
Grief all thy thought, and solitude thy home.
Sing on, sad mourner ! I will bless thy strain,
And pleas'd in sorrow listen to thy song :
Sing on, sad mourner ! to the night complain,
W hile the lone echo wafts thy notes along.
Is beauty less, when down the gloAving cheek
Sad, piteous tears in native sorrows fall?
Less kind the heart when anguish bids it break ?
Less happy he who lists to pity's call ?
Ah no, sad owl ! nor is thy voice less sweet.
That sadness tunes it, and that grief is there ;
That spring's gay notes, unskilled, thou canst repeat;
That sorrow bids thee to the gloom repair ;
( 289 ;
Xor that the treble songsters of the day,
Are quite estranged, sad bird of night, from thee ;
Xor that the tlirush deserts the evening spray,
When darkness calls thee from thy reverie.
From some old tow'r, thy melancholy dome,
While the gray walls and desert solitudes
Return each note, responsive to the gloom
Of ivied coverts and surrounding woods ;
There hooling ; I will hst more pleas'd to thee,
Than ever lover to the nightingale ;
Or drooping wretch oppress'd with misery,
Lending his ear to some condoling fale.
THE VOWELS.
A TALE.
[This, although found in the poet's handwriting among hie papers, cannot te
ascertained as his. Some of his rhyming friends were in the habit of submitting
their vepRGS to him for his corrections, and in such cases, he sometimes tran-
scribed the whole piece, inserting his own improvements as he proceeded; so
that the existence of verses in his MS., is a very inadequate test of their author
ship.]
'TwAS where the birch and sounding thong are ply'd,
The noisy domicile of pedant pride ;
Where ignorance her darkening vapour throws,
And cruelty directs the thickening blows ;
Upon a time, Sir A B C the great,
In all his pedagogic powers elate,
His awful chair of state resolves to mount,
And call the trembling vowels to account. —
First enter'd A, a grave, broad, solemn wight,
But, ah ! deform'd, dishonest to the sight !
His twisted head look'd backward on his way,
And flagrant from the scourge he grunted, ai!
Reluctant, E stalk'd in; a piteous case.
The justling tears rau down his honest face!
( 290 )
That uame, that well-woru name, and all his own,
Pale, he surrenders at the tyrant's throne !
The Pedant stifles keen the Roman sound
Not all his mongrel diphthongs can compound ;
And next the title following close behind,
He to the nameless, ghastly wretch assign'd.
The cobweb'd gothic dome resounded, Y !
In sullen vengeance, I, disdain'd reply :
The Pedant swung his felon cudgel round,
And knock'd the groaning vowel to the ground !
In rueful apprehension enter'd 0,
The wailing minstrel of despairing woe ;
Th' Inquisitor of Spain the most expert,
Might there have learnt new mysteries of his art :
So grim, deform'd, with horrors entering, U,
His dearest friend and brother scarcely knew !
As trembUng TJ stood staring all aghast.
The pedant in his left hand clutch'd him fast,
In helpless infants' tears he dipp'd his right,
Baptiz'd him eti, and kick'd him from his sight.
HUGHIE GRAHAM.
[It is not generally known that this fine ballad, which obtained a prominent
place in Sir Walter Scott's Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, as also "The Loeh-
maben Harper," were among those picked up by Burns, whose versions are
certainly superior to those given by Scott.
Cromek assures us that two verses of Hughie Graham are wholly by Burns,
and that his corrections are visible in some others. The following seem to be
the stanzas he refers to :] —
LOWSE my right hand free, he says,
And put my braid sword in the same ;
He's no' in Stirling toun this day,
Dare tell the tale to Hughie Graham.
They've ta'en him to the gallows-knowe, —
: He looket to the gallows-tree ;
Yet never the colour left his cheek.
Nor ever did ho blink bis e'o.
( 291 )
baud your tongue, my father dear,
And wi' your weeping let it be ;
Thy weeping's sairer on my heart.
Than a' that they can do to me.
And ye may tell my kith and kin,
I never did disgrace their bluid ;
And when they meet the bishop's cloak
To mak' it shorter by the huid.*
CLOSma NOTE ON CKOMEK'S 'EELIQUES.'
This enthusiastic Englishman, and devoted admirer of the Scottish bard,
encouraged by the success of the Reliquea, lost no time in setting about the pre-
paration of two other contributions to Scottish literature. These he produced
in 1810: the one entitled, "Eemains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song," the
other, "Select Scottish Songs, ancient and modern, with Critical Observations
and Biographical Notices. By Robert Burns." The former of these is now
only remarkable as having been the medium of publishing a series of bare-
faced impostures, by Allan Cunningham, in the form of pretended "remains"
of old song, which lie contrived to palm on the credulous collector, as being the